Part 11

ARCITE. Not farre, Sir, Are there such Games to day?

1. COUNTREYMAN Yes, marry, are there: And such as you neuer saw; The Duke himselfe Will be in person there.

ARCITE. What pastimes are they?

2. COUNTREYMAN Wrastling, and Running.—Tis a pretty Fellow.

3. COUNTREYMAN Thou wilt not goe along?

ARCITE. Not yet, Sir.

4. COUNTREYMAN Well, Sir, Take your owne time: come, Boyes.

1. COUNTREYMAN My minde misgives me; This fellow has a veng’ance tricke o’th hip: Marke how his Bodi’s made for’t

2. COUNTREYMAN Ile be hangd, though, If he dare venture; hang him, plumb porredge, He wrastle? he rost eggs! Come, lets be gon, Lads. [Exeunt.]

ARCITE. This is an offerd oportunity I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled, The best men calld it excellent, and run— Swifter the winde upon a feild of Corne (Curling the wealthy eares) never flew: Ile venture, And in some poore disguize be there; who knowes Whether my browes may not be girt with garlands? And happines preferre me to a place, Where I may ever dwell in sight of her. [Exit Arcite.]

Scaena 4. (Athens. A room in the prison.)

DAUGHTER. Why should I love this Gentleman? Tis odds He never will affect me; I am base, My Father the meane Keeper of his Prison, And he a prince: To marry him is hopelesse; To be his whore is witles. Out upon’t, What pushes are we wenches driven to, When fifteene once has found us! First, I saw him; I (seeing) thought he was a goodly man; He has as much to please a woman in him, (If he please to bestow it so) as ever These eyes yet lookt on. Next, I pittied him, And so would any young wench, o’ my Conscience, That ever dream’d, or vow’d her Maydenhead To a yong hansom Man; Then I lov’d him, Extreamely lov’d him, infinitely lov’d him; And yet he had a Cosen, faire as he too. But in my heart was Palamon, and there, Lord, what a coyle he keepes! To heare him Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is! And yet his Songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken Was never Gentleman. When I come in To bring him water in a morning, first He bowes his noble body, then salutes me, thus: ‘Faire, gentle Mayde, good morrow; may thy goodnes Get thee a happy husband.’ Once he kist me. I lov’d my lips the better ten daies after. Would he would doe so ev’ry day! He greives much, And me as much to see his misery. What should I doe, to make him know I love him? For I would faine enjoy him. Say I ventur’d To set him free? what saies the law then? Thus much For Law, or kindred! I will doe it, And this night, or to morrow, he shall love me. [Exit.]

Scaena 5. (An open place in Athens.)

THESEUS. You have done worthily; I have not seene, Since Hercules, a man of tougher synewes; What ere you are, you run the best, and wrastle, That these times can allow.

ARCITE. I am proud to please you.

THESEUS. What Countrie bred you?

ARCITE. This; but far off, Prince.

THESEUS. Are you a Gentleman?

ARCITE. My father said so; And to those gentle uses gave me life.

THESEUS. Are you his heire?

ARCITE. His yongest, Sir.

THESEUS. Your Father Sure is a happy Sire then: what prooves you?

ARCITE. A little of all noble Quallities: I could have kept a Hawke, and well have holloa’d To a deepe crie of Dogges; I dare not praise My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me Would say it was my best peece: last, and greatest, I would be thought a Souldier.

THESEUS. You are perfect.

PERITHOUS. Vpon my soule, a proper man.

EMILIA. He is so.

PERITHOUS. How doe you like him, Ladie?

HIPPOLITA. I admire him; I have not seene so yong a man so noble (If he say true,) of his sort.